No Intention
by chase-the-draggon
Summary: "You need not say anything Sir, I certainly have no intention to stop". Movieverse - Stark x Not Pepper - Sometimes a Hero needs someone he can trust.


**- ****No Intention**** -**

_A/N:_ Movie verse - Fans please don't kill me.. I got this idea and it wouldn't go away! Pretty sure it's the first one out there...

A what if scenario - If Pepper had not visited the workshop whilst Tony was being freed from his armour after his first real test-drive in Gulmira.

* * *

Booting up the home interface network via the comm. link within his master's gold-titanium alloy alias, Jarvis mapped and began their final decent towards the cliffside Miami mansion. A rare silence met his auditory sensors, broken only by a muttered command allowing the AI to autopilot the suit into his sub-ground workstation.

Threads of code translating into what he understood as concern began to form within his processor, and calculating the flight length, time engaged in battle and the number hits taken, as well as the bodily stresses incurred during the F-22 dogfight, Jarvis concluded his creator was experiencing fatigue and physical pain, and a full diagnostic would be necessary once Stark was free of his armour.

Yet, defying the logic-bound programming shared by most AI counterparts, Jarvis detected his master's injuries ran deeper than the mere physical.

His base programming was to be of absolute service, and over time the development of new data and subroutines had advanced his comprehension to a level resembling human care. This, coupled with his years of service allowed the AI to become finely attuned to his creator; the result, an almost complete _knowing _of Tony Stark.

And now he perceived there was much more than just bullet holes to contend with. Seeing the legacy of Stark Industries as merely a means to a body count, Jarvis knew, had unhinged his master's grip on what he believed he, his father, and his company had stood for, leaving nothing but anger, doubt, and a deep sense of mistrust.

Stark world never admit this of course, keeping everything fiercely to himself behind a veneer of carefree, playboy charm. But no matter what he attempted to conceal with hard work, hard drinking and hard play, there would always be one who knew him better, perhaps even more so than Stark knew himself.

"How are you feeling Sir?" Jarvis asked, his voice cool and accented, drifting over the mechanical whine of the jet propulsion system powering down in landing sequence.

"Yeah great, fantastic. How about you?" came the sarcastic reply with a slight stumble as feet struck the workshop floor; the small falter in Stark's pretence enough to inform the AI of the price of his vengeful trip.

"I, Sir, am running at 94% capacity and quite well, unlike yourself. I believe medical assistance may be required following a vitals scan and full diagnostic--"

"I said I'm fine Jarvis, just get me out of this thing."

"Right away Sir."

Stepping onto the black gridded platform concealing the robotic suit assembly system, Tony reached to manually unlatch his helmet and dragged the golden-red metal from his face, relishing in the cool air on his skin as the grinding sound of engineering began above and beneath him at the control of Jarvis.

He raised his arms and widened his stance as the mechanical system descended from support beams in the roof, taking his armoured gauntlets in their grip as further devices snaked their way from beneath the floor grid to attach themselves to Stark's leg, back and chest plating.

As each appliance simultaneously began to attempt removing their designated portion of the suit, Tony yelped in pain and struggled as he was shifted about, each machine trying to do its task without success.

"Hey! Ow, ah ah ah ah ah--"

"Well it is a tight fit Sir," Jarvis replied coolly, trying again to grasp the suit's plating with careful robotic fingers to no avail.

"Hey, ungh.."

"Sir the more you struggle the more this is going to hurt."

"Be gentle, it's my first time," Stark returned in true satirical form, yet earning nothing but silence from Jarvis. He continued to struggle, adding "I designed this to come off so, OW! Hey!" He pulled away from the machine as it seized his left arm hard, signalling perhaps some impatience within the AI behind it.

"There really should be a, ah..."

"Please try not to move Sir."

Heaving a sigh, Tony dropped his arms from the mechanical disassembly, rolled his shoulders and allowed his head to fall back, his gaze resting on the fidgeting robotics above him.

"Come on Jarvis, work it out. I want out of this damn suit, alright?"

"I understand Sir," The AI responded evenly, "give me a few moments to review the suit design specifications to determine a less problematic method of removal."

Nodding, Stark dropped his head and closed his eyes. He felt the weight of the suit bearing down on him, as well as the blossoming pain in his back he guessed to be bruises, maybe a broken rib, complements of Colonel Rhodes' F-22 jet rounds.

Rhodey. Stane. Two of his most trusted, turning out to be deserters and traitors respectively. He shook his head as he heard Jarvis' robotic assembly whirr to life once more, and raised his arms half-heartedly, keeping his head down. Who did he have left? Pepper? He dismissed her from his thoughts as quickly as she had appeared. He could not involve her, she would only bring a girl's emotion, awkwardness and, Tony huffed, sexual tension. He suddenly wished his father were alive.

Returning to the present, he found his arms held comfortably in Jarvis' mechanical grip, whilst various devices, drills and five fingered robotic arms poised before his chest plate.

"Shall we try this again Sir?" Jarvis asked, his usual composed tone laced with humour.

"Yeah. Do it. Get it right this time," he teased, shifting his doubts into a jibe at Jarvis' capabilities in an attempt to gain a reaction.

The AI merely began unscrewing the chest plate bolts, two of the hand-like instruments grasping the red armour and gently lifting, revealing torrents of wires leading to and from the miniature arc reactor embedded in Stark's chest. He spoke suddenly.

"What am I doing Jarvis?"

A plea, weak and simple, left his mouth before he could stop himself. He gritted his teeth, hating every passing second as the cracks in his 'Tony Stark – The Island' act began to show. Cracks he wanted hidden, wanted the world to think he could handle, or breeze over, or forget. Cracks now exposed to the artificial intelligence machine who already knew they existed.

He hung like a prisoner as Jarvis released him from the armoured suit piece by piece, slowly and calculatingly, and yet with something else Stark could not quite grasp.

"I believe you are referring to the injunction placed against you by Mr. Stane, and the subsequent underhanded dealings performed by Stark Industries, am I correct?

The AI continued disconnecting arc reactor lines and removing the red and gold metal, moving slowly up each of Stark's arms, revealing the black protective skin suit beneath. He shivered involuntarily as a single robotic finger trailed the inside of his wrist to his elbow joint.

"Yeah that's it. Hey Jarvis, what exactly are you doing?" Stark questioned, forcing his emotions behind a fast change of subject. His arms were now free of armour, and he felt the unmistakably cold touch of metal on his bare skin through a tear in the shoulder of his protective suit.

"I am following your expressed directive to, and I quote, release you from the 'damn suit' Sir," Jarvis replied, earning a surprised snort of laughter.

"Ever so literal Jarvis," Tony teased, once again becoming aware of the cool touch of robotics. He shrugged and moved away from the prying instrument, suddenly feeling slightly awkward.

"No I mean the-- you're touching me, what's goin' on?" His heart beat a little faster as he shifted again, finding himself unable to evade Jarvis' delicate contact.

"Sir, I know it must be difficult for you, but please try to remain still. I am merely assessing the injuries you have sustained, which, owing to your misplaced heroic recklessness, shall be quite a task."

Silenced for perhaps the first time in his life, Tony Stark huffed, inwardly insulted Jarvis, before standing as directed, silent and unmoving.

"Thank you Sir. Whilst I conclude the disassembly of the lower portion of the suit, I require you to please remove your protective neoprene exoskin. My scans indicate a suspected fractured rib and several contusions to the first and second quadrants of the posterior torso."

"Back Jarvis, my back. Posterior quadrants, tsk..." he mumbled, reaching to grasp the closure at the back of his neck before dragging it down, struggling his arms out of the tight material as the pain in his side increased. He thought momentarily of his position; Jarvis must have seen him naked or worse countless times, being sectioned and programmed throughout the entire mansion, but stripping because Jarvis told him to... he felt the urge to make some joke, not to hide anything or dispel any tension he quickly convinced himself, just because the moment called for one.

Yeah.

He pulled the neoprene down to his waist. "Always knew you were a pervert Jarvis," Stark looked up under a cocked eyebrow into the mechanics above him, before turning back and absently running a hand across his exposed chest, skimming the edge of his arc reactor housing, the electromagnet glowing steadily.

"A pervert Sir?" Jarvis replied innocently, simultaneously lifting the final pieces of suit armour and jet thrusters from Stark's legs, and gently placing the tips of three robotic hand-like instruments onto the noted damage zones of his body; left shoulder blade, right ribs, lower back. Tony shivered.

"Yeah you are. Dirty robot pervert."

"I think not," Jarvis countered, the sensors contained within his 'fingers' raising every piece of data from Stark's body; his shoulder alignment, giving evidence of some old grievance, the minor ruptured vessels surrounding his rib injury, the strained muscle tissue in his lower back, the way his flesh seemed to prickle and cause the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end...

Tony cleared his throat as if to speak, but said nothing. The robotics continued ghosting across his flesh. He breathed quietly.

His skin crawled, the physical and internal pain he felt previously forgotten as he caught himself wanting more of that delicate, barely there touch. He could feel the static charge of electricity transfer with every brushing contact Jarvis made, and looked down to find his arc reactor glowing brighter, generating a strange tickling warmth within his chest. Stark wondered whether his AI knew what he was doing, or at least _how_ he was making him feel. Better yet, why he didn't want it to stop.

An involuntary sigh escaped Tony as Jarvis continued shifting his hands simultaneously, tracing his neck, abdomen and left hip where flesh met exosuit with those same electrifying touches. The feeling that the AI was everywhere filled Stark's mind.

The moment he felt Jarvis graze his chest and inner thigh, and grip his shoulder in unison, Tony suddenly came back to himself, well aware of his current state and fighting an oncoming wave of disgust. Jarvis, his AI, a goddamn computer program, was just trying to do its job. The split second consideration that maybe getting him off _was_ the AI's job caused Stark to groan inwardly and push it from his mind. Glancing towards the glass workshop doors, he felt suddenly afraid he would find Pepper staring back at him, confused and unsure.

"Jarvis," Tony began, fully intending to tell the AI to stop.

"Sir?" Jarvis answered quietly, his velvety intonation coupled with continued static-filled touches quickly weakening any resolve still lingering within his master.

"I, Ja--ahhh...!" All resistance fled as the hand nearest Stark's neck extended a small tool used to cool welding repairs to copper wire, and puffed a short burst of cold air against his neck, just below his left ear. Somehow his mind told him this was not part of the injury assessment, but he could not find it within himself to care as a shudder rippled through him, the air tool 'exhaling' once more against the junction of his neck and collarbone.

The cold air, the maddeningly electric touches leaving every part of him tingling, the throbbing energy build up within his chest piece all converged to a singular need, and Tony found himself fighting the urge to beg for more; fighting not to be on par with his numerous and constant stream of moaning, pleading, submissive one night stands. Fighting for control when all he wanted was to let go.

"J...ungh..." he swallowed hard, the inescapable feeling of machinery grazing upward from his left knee momentarily causing his throat to constrict.

Jarvis spoke then, as though able to read directly into his creator's mind, his quiet and silken tone leaving Stark momentarily astounded that a machine could sound so irresistible.

"You need not say anything Sir, I certainly have no intention to stop..."

Stark groaned, and as he felt Jarvis' trailing hand meet its destination over the straining apex of his thighs, with two more placed over his arc reactor and lower back, he knew it was over. With a final burst of static energy driven into his body, Tony gave a sudden shout as the electromagnet buried in his chest emitted a blinding flash of light, closely followed by a very human rush of heat.

He stood trembling as Jarvis retracted his hand instruments, watching the machinery fold away and disappear into the dark compartments above and below, and let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding.

"So... uh, what just happened?"

"How do you feel Sir?" the AI merely replied.

"Uh, yeah. Better." Stark answered awkwardly, "Suppose I should get that rib checked out." Trusting his legs not to shake, he stepped back as the black grid beneath his feet hissed shut, and reached to touch the area himself. Wincing in pain, he sighed.

"Jarvis? Would you do me a favour?" _With what you just did, just saw, show me nothing's changed..._

"For you Sir, always."

"I need you to run a scan of the house; I want to know where Pepper is." He looked down at himself, half-naked, sweat slicked, injured, and hiding the effects of moments ago, and quickly decided he did _not_ want to accidentally run into her.

"She is in her quarters Sir, conducting an internet search on--"

"Nope, don't want to know. See you are a pervert." Stark made a noise of satisfaction and made his way to the workshop exit. As he reached the door he stopped, turned back and made to speak, but the AI cut him off.

"Your secrets are safe with me Sir. I am merely programmed to serve you in every way and as best I can."

Tony chuckled. "Well, you can tell it was me who programmed you then, am I right?"

"Correct Sir."

Still smiling, Stark left the workshop and hurried up the spiral staircase as fast as his injured ribs would allow, listening intently for any sounds that signified movement. After reaching his master suite undetected, tugging off the rest of the neoprene suit and stepping into the warmth of a long awaited shower, Tony felt a strange calmness descending over him. He quickly attributed it to his recent 'tension release' as he regarded it, and certainly not to his realising and reaffirming faith in something other than himself. He could not allow himself that, merely balancing what had occurred and what had been silently exchanged as a formulaic equation to be left unsolved, and logged away.

Hearing the intermittent tapping of water against his arc reactor, he closed down and returned to 'Tony Stark – The Island', absently congratulating himself on his expertise with mechanics and programming, highly doubting if any other AI could do what Jarvis had done.

"I bet he even taped the whole thing," Stark muttered to himself as he stepped out of the shower, and contemplated dialling Jarvis on the intercom to ask. But he knew there was no need. Like Jarvis had said himself, Stark he knew his secrets were safe.

Allowing it to surface just once, Stark smiled sadly.

At least he could trust someone implicitly, even if it was only a machine.

* * *

Anyone vomited yet? Haha.


End file.
